A/N: Yeah, it's a quarter after one in the morning. Third Ms. J chapter I've written today. Joanne is just coming so easily for me. I'll probably space out these chapters now, so that you guys don't have to read three chapters all at once. You can let it all sink in one chapter at a time. Since now I kinda know where I'm going with this fic.

P.S. There are some references to my one-shot 'Buzzline' in this chapter, but you can probably get by without reading it. But one of the jokes will only make sense if you read that fic, probably. Authors can mix their stories together. It's their stories. So NYEAH! READ!

.-.-.

"Joanne?"

Joanne looked up from her massive textbook in stunned amazement. "M-maureen?"

Maureen, who was shutting the front door behind her, nodded with a smile. "I'm home."

Joanne leapt up immediately. "What happened?"

Maureen waved a hand at Joanne, indicating she wasn't quite ready to talk about it. She went over to the kitchen area, pulling out a box of dry store-brand cereal and eating a handful dry. After a minute of eating cereal in complete silence, she came over to Joanne, motioning her to sit on the couch (her mouth was full), and sat down next to her (after swallowing). "Roger tried to bail."

Joanne blinked. "What did he do?"

Maureen let a long sigh fall out. "Mark found Roger in the hotel room, trying to shoot up." Joanne gasped, and Maureen shrugged in a defeated fashion. "Mark had to throw the whole stash out the window, and when he called he was at a payphone in the main lobby, because he had locked Roger into the apartment. Said Roger was going crazy. I talked Mark through it, told him to calm down, because if one of them wasn't calm, it was pointless. Poor guy...he was so scared..."

Joanne nodded. "He sounded it."

Shockingly, Maureen laughed, short and swift. "He asked me who the hell had answered the phone, and I said it was just somebody I was letting use the extra space 'cause she needed it. He says thanks again."

"Any time."

"And he means it, believe me." Maureen laughed again. "He kept saying, 'PLEASE tell her thank you for me a hundred times over!', but I'm not sure you want to sit and hear me say 'thank you' a hundred times." Both of them laughed at this, but it didn't last long. The shock of what had happened hadn't really worn off. "But he's really grateful you got the guts to pick up the phone. Otherwise he probably wouldn't have had the guts to go back in and face Rog. He said he would..."

RIIING. Both of them jumped, and Maureen literally ran to the phone, snatching it. "Mark! Yes, it's me...Is he OK?...Are you OK?...Honey, I was worried you would do something stupid..." She lowered her tone, as if Roger would be able to hear them if she spoke too loud. "Are you sure you got rid of it all? I'm serious, Mark! If there's any of it left, he'll try to use it. Believe me. Make sure all of it's gone...all of it...does he want to talk?...No, I didn't think he did...No, Mark, don't try to make him. It's hard for him, too. You have to remember that, Mark. This is hard...I know, Mark...I know it's hard for you too...I know, Mark...you don't need to tell me, I was at the funeral, I think I know she's dead. Mark, just...just...stop interrupting me and listen. Just take it easy. Get on the next bus back. I'll be here all day tomorrow...yes, I do think you should get here early. The sooner more than one person can help, the better...Yes, she's still here..." (Joanne shifted slightly, knowing she was now being talked about.) "...We met on the subway last night and she needed a place to stay tonight. Mark, you know how dangerous it is on the streets...Yes, I've been out most of the day, and she's just been working here...Why are you asking me? Why don't you ask her?" (Joanne suppressed a laugh.) "...OK, Pookie, stay safe! BOTH of you! And get home so I can help you...No, she'll be gone. Why in the world are you so worried?...What? Stop mumbling, Pookie..." Maureen suddenly broke into hysterical laughter. "Pookie! That's silly! Seriously! Just get home safe, OK? I'm hanging up, Pookie! Hanging up! No, no, I'm doing it! Bye, Pookie! Bye! I'm hanging up! Right...now!" She hung up the phone, laughing hysterically. She looked at Joanne for just a second, calming down enough to say "I love playing with his little head. He's so cute when he gets protective anyways." When Joanne only blinked in confusion, Maureen laughed a little more, and then sighed. "Oh, I'm going to hit the sack."

Joanne rolled her eyes. (She couldn't stop asking herself over and over "...Pookie?") "Me too."

Maureen shook her head at Joanne. "You could have just gone to sleep. You didn't have to wait for me."

Joanne shrugged. "I was worried. Is it weird that I was worried about people I have never met before?"

Maureen blinked. "No, I don't think so. If I was in your shoes, I think I would be scared stiff."

Joanne shrugged yet again. She knelt down and reached into her suitcase, searching for some pajamas. When she had pulled them up, she stood up. "Can I change in the bathroom?"

Maureen blinked a few times. "The bathroom..." Joanne was confused by Maureen's suddenly dazed expression at the mention of the bathroom. After a moment, she seemed to awaken from her trance, and nodded. "Sure. I'm going on to bed. Goodnight, Joanne."

Joanne stepped into the bathroom, smiling at her before shutting the door. "Goodnight, Maureen," she said through the door.

.-.-.

"You sure your place is all figured out?"

"I'm sure. You don't need to worry about me, Maureen." Joanne shook her head over her mug of dry cereal. (Quality breakfast, she had thought.)

Maureen sighed. "Mark called from the bus station while you were in the shower. Said he would be here with Roger at noon."

"By then, I'll be halfway to Harvard," Joanne said with a smirk, tossing another piece of stale Froot Loop imitation into her mouth.

Maureen shrugged. "I've loved getting to know you, Joanne. You'll have to call me again here to give me a phone number so we can keep in touch!"

Joanne nodded happily. "Of course. I'm glad we met."

Maureen smiled. "Me too." There was a soft silence between them during which both of them ate their cereal in content quietness. "Maybe you can come up and visit us before your graduation. When...Roger's feeling better, probably. I'm serious, you would love Mark."

Joanne shook her head. "Oh, I don't want to have to intrude."

"It wouldn't be! Just you and me for a meal at Life, then, once in a while?"

Joanne shrugged. "Hopefully." Joanne looked at the clock, which read 9:45. "I better get going. I believe a train leaves Grand Central at 10:10."

Maureen smiled. "I better stay here, in case Mark and Roger get here early."

Joanne nodded in agreement. She stood up, picking up her purse and her suitcase and duffel. She made for the front door, but paused just before walking out of the door, and turned around to face Maureen, only to find her feet away from her. The two of them pulled into a long embrace, hugging each other tightly. Joanne felt a tear trickle down her cheek. "Thank you for all your help."

"Thank you. Hell, if I hadn't talked Mark through last night, who knows what he would have done? Who knows what Roger would have done?" The two of them pulled apart, holding hands, and then Joanne walked away, picking her suitcase back up and walking out the front door. She heard Maureen shut the door behind her as she walked towards the staircase.

The entire train ride home, Joanne had a massive smile planted on her face.

.-.-.

"Ms. Joanne Jefferson."

The young graduate walked up to the podium, amid applause from the parents and classmates in the audience. Joanne accepted the diploma from the stately woman smiling at her, and turned to face the crowd for a moment before walking off of the stage.

She could see her parents, both smiling. Her mother looked truly proud, as did her father. Wasn't that really all she wanted? Just to make them proud? She could see, amid the sea of caps and gowns, her former roommate, looking up at her with a pained expression from beside her new girlfriend, who Joanne had learned was named Marcella. But the happiest face in the crowd (aside from her parents) was that of a young woman in a form-fitting black dress, applauding like mad, her curly-black hair bouncing all over the place.

Joanne let her eyes linger on Maureen as she walked off the stage. She was still going steady with Mark, of course. Roger was in the first stages of withdrawl, as Maureen had told her at their last café meeting (which had happened every weekend for the past month). Collins had given Roger a good pep talk on AIDS during his visit the weekend after Mark and Roger returned from the clinic. (Joanne learned that Collins was, like Roger, HIV positive, which explained his 'Actual Reality' theory.) Joanne was kept completely up-to-date on all the happenings of Maureen's friends.

But she didn't meet a single one of them until many, many months later, when a young filmmaker would nervously enter a small, cramped performance space as she prepared the stage for a young diva she had fallen for.

But that's getting a little ahead of the story.

.-.-.

A young woman hustled through the streets of New York City, changed and determined. Her coat was wrapped tightly around her figure clothed in a pant suit. Her briefcase clasped in one hand, her other hand holding her coat shut, she kept her head high.

She walked through the revolving door of the office building, smiling at the receptionist, who smiled back, greeting her with a short "Good morning, Ms. Jefferson". The lawyer nodded in response, walking into the elevator at the same time as another business man, who also greeted her with a "Good morning, Ms. Jefferson."

"Good morning, Alfred." She tapped her toe as she waited for the elevator to arrive at the floor she wanted. As the bell announced her arrival at the correct floor, she walked off briskly, walking confidently down the hall to Room 101. She pulled out a key ring from her purse, searching for the correct key.

"Good morning, Kitten."

Joanne looked up from trying to open the door to her office and smiled at her father, who was peeking out of the door of his own office. "Good morning, Dad. How are you?"

Mr. Jefferson nodded. "Quite well. Will you be able to visit us for Thanksgiving next week?"

Joanne paused, unlocking her door and opening it. "Of course, Father! Who else would I spend Thanksgiving with?" There was a long pause. "I've always come home for Thanksgiving, Dad. Now it's even easier, since we're not a train ride away."

Her father let out a long sigh through his nose. "Your mother still worries about you, honey."

Joanne let her eyes cast downward. "I know, Dad." There was a long silence. "I-I need to get to work..." She hurried into her office, shutting the door behind her.

She sat down behind her desk, letting out a long breath. It wasn't easy to have to be put on a guilt trip about her sexuality every time she went to work. Her eyes wandered over the pile of paperwork on her desk, and then over to the phone, blinking at the pulsating light. She picked up the phone, pushing a button.

"You have 1 new message. Hey, it's me!" Maureen rolled her eyes as the young woman's voice came on. "Just calling to say hi! Remember: have a sunny and darling day, not to make any crude allusions to media."

Joanne cracked up as the message ended. Even though Joanne had told her not to call her anymore at the office, Maureen kept doing it. And, however 'unprofessional' it seemed, it still cheered her up. She dialed a number by memory into the phone. It rang once. Twice. "Hello?"

"Hey, Maureen! I told you not to leave any more messages on my machine!"

There was laughter from the other end. "I just wanted to make sure my favorite lawyer had a good day!"

"A sunny and darling one to boot." More laughter on the other end. "You know I hate that show."

"Which is exactly why I mentioned it! Don't try to tell me you didn't laugh, I know you too well!"

Joanne rolled her eyes. "Why did you call me, anyways?"

"I wanted to see if you wanted to...well, go to dinner tonight!"

Silence. Stunned silence. "Maureen, I thought we already had this talk. We can't get together at night. Then it's a date."

"So?"

"...Maureen...you have a boyfriend." Oh, no...

"Not anymore."

"...WHAT?"

"Well, you see...I just didn't feel like things were working anymore with me and Mark."

"...Maureen...why did you dump Mark?"

"...Can we talk about it over dinner?"

Silence. I haven't had a girlfriend since Celia. In fact, I haven't even gone on a date since Celia. "Well...all right."

"GREAT! I'll meet you at your place at seven!"

Joanne sighed, defeated. "Sure, Maureen...my place."

"It'll be fun! Have a great day, Joanne!"

"But, Maureen..." The line was dead before she could say anything. Joanne sat there for a moment, stunned. Had she really just given into Maureen that easily? They had known each other for 6 months now, during which they had built a wonderful friendship. And this wasn't the first time Maureen had suggested dinner. Why did Joanne cave in now? Why did she let her defenses down?

Because it's Maureen, that's why. You've secretly been waiting for this since you met the girl.